


Conundrum

by jurassic_peej



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Intellectual Pairing, slow-ish build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jurassic_peej/pseuds/jurassic_peej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GCPD's brightest and least appreciated, Edward Nygma, is shocked when he's given a partner and a set of cases to solve. Puzzle after puzzle is thrown their way but the biggest dilemma surfaces when Ed experiences unknown feelings that leave him baffled and bemused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Curious Case of Ed and Frances

"What'cha got, Ed?"

Edward Nygma, a slim dark haired eccentric, looks up from his brown-leather book "I am a five lettered word-"

"Not today, Nygma." Detective Harvey Bullock interjects, rubbing the bridge of his nose excruciatingly "I've already woken up to three chickens clucking in my ear, I don't need another one."

Ed's lips fall into a thin, flat smile "The state of the body, Detective Bullock, has just begun to enter rigor mortis so the victim can't have been dead for more than two hours and going off the moisture in his coat and the damp trail leading through the door, he was dragged inside after termination. But what happened to this young fellow causing him to meet an untimely death?" Ed pauses momentarily to look at the Detectives who, in turn, shake their heads and shrug, "Strangulation by ligature. The killer used some kind of fabric, its width being about two and half to three inches."

"Anything else?" Detective Jim Gordon asks, placing his hands on his hips, a slight frown on his lips as he inspects the body.

Edward smiles at the Detective "Quite so. Interesting enough," he begins, picking up the hands of the body "the fingers are missing." he finishes, a grin spread across his lips.

Detective Gordon's frown deepens "What maniac would want the fingers of a dead guy?"

"Actually, " Ed says suddenly, dropping the hands with a _thud_ and standing up, "finger removing is quite common in murders. See, its been a long time practiced method of keeping the victim's identity a secret. They believed that if you cut the fingers off, " he explains, modeling with his own hands "no one would be able to run a DNA scan and in turn find out the person." he looks down at the body with furrowed brows "But usually the victim's face is smashed in so there could be no facial recognition."

"So what exactly are you saying?" Detective Bullock asks, taking a haphazard gulp of steaming coffee.

"Whoever killed and took the fingers of this man didn't do it for secrecy." Edward glances back and forth between the detectives "There was another motive."

__________

" _Welcome to Gotham City._ "

Frances Finch straightens up as her train pulls into the station. Getting off the overly squeaky excuse for a locomotive, she notices streaks of monotonous grey and black light seeping down the grimy staircase leading out of the station. _What did I do to deserve this?_ She thinks to herself regretfully. Stepping up the semi-slippery curved steps (from years of use), her heels send a loud _click_ through the steel halls of transportation. The echo follows her until she reaches the top. The resemblance between the upstairs and the downstairs is quite uncanny, to the point where Frances wishes she could hop back onto the train and ride her way back to east Texas. Billows of smoke furl into the sky while chipped pebbles and debris litter the ground.

"Just ignore it." Frances mutters to herself with a deep breath.

It takes about twenty minutes for her to reach her destination. Ten minutes to hunt someone down who was actually kind enough to give her directions then ten minutes to finally journey there. Despite her difficulties, she reaches the Gotham City Police Department ten minutes early. According to the custom her mother was so adamant she learned, arriving early to meetings can cause discomfort and anxiety so she decides it would be best to wait outside.

Opening a notebook, she takes a seat on a weathered bench and begins to doodle. Nothing spectacular, just a mathematically defined region of spacetime exhibiting such a strong gravitational pull that no particle or electromagnetic radiation can escape from it.

"I am the most powerful object in the universe, nothing can escape my pull, that is, at least, until I'm full. What am I?"

Frances turns to face the voice. She's met with a rather smug looking man, hunched over to reach her height, "Pardon?"

"I am the most powerful object in the universe, nothing can escape my pull, that is, at least, until I'm full. What am I?" he repeats, the look not leaving but dominating his face further.

Frances stands "A black hole." she answers.

The man straightens his back "Quite a detailed sketch of one you have there." he comments, gesturing toward her notebook, "An astrophysicist, perhaps? Or maybe just a star gazer."

Frances stares at the man for a moment, taking in and observing his oddities "Actually I'm a forensic pathologist."

His smug look falls. He stares at her in silence for a little bit, the pale sun reflecting off his glasses "Quite so." he quietly remarks before abruptly turning and pushing his way through the GCPD doors.

As if shocked out of a small trance, Frances realizes her interview is about to begin. Grabbing her bag, she hurries through the glass doors the man had moments ago entered, in one quick motion. Not even taking a moment to say hello, the door man ushers her into a large office at the center of the department.

"Sit." a stern voice commands.

Following orders, Frances inspects the captain, a middle aged, yet quite beautiful, dark skinned woman.

"I'm Captain Essen and I'm assuming your Frances Finch, the pathologist?" she asks, barley glancing up from the large file labeled 'FOR HIRE' with a picture of Frances pinned to the front.

She nods "Yes ma'am but forensic pathologist."

The captain cracks a small smile "Well, alright, I apologize."

"See, they're-"

The captain cuts her off with a hand "I don't need to know fancy scientific terms if that's all right with you." Frances nods "Anyway to tell you the truth, " she begins, setting the file down and focusing on her "we've been having some difficulties finding a replacement. It seems Gotham isn't one the most popular cities to get a job at, in fact you've been our first candidate. So, congratulations, you've got the job."

Despite it all being so hopelessly easy, Frances smiles "Thank you ma'am. This means a lot to me."

The captain sits up as a frown begins to form "Just fair warning, though, you'll be frequently be working with one of our brightest; Edward Nygma. In close quarters too, in fact."

Frances tilts her head "What's the problem with that?"

Essen furrows her brows as if in thought "He's a bit...strange and he really likes to talk through riddles."

Frances' brain is immediately drawn back to her experience from earlier "Does he have dark hair and glasses?" she inquires.

The Captain slowly nods "Yes, yes he does. I'm assuming you've met him?" Frances nods "Alright, well, I would understand if you don't want to take the job then."

Frances almost bursts out laughing "That's a bit rude, don't you think? Putting down another person like that. I know it's not my place to say this but you, and everyone for that matter, shouldn't dismiss him and ostracize him so quickly just because he's not what you consider 'normal'." Frances can feel she crossed a line but I guess that social justice college course really did change her.

Surprisingly enough, Captain Essen smiles "You're going to be perfect." she says, nudging her head toward the window to her left.

Frances turns and sees Edward slightly hunched over outside the window, obviously listening and she thinks she catches a hint of a smile on his lips before he quickly leaves.

"I guess I'll be heading to my office then?" Frances asks, standing up.

"Alright Miss Firecracker hold your sparks, first you've got to fill out some paperwork." Essen says with an ever growing smile "You can get them from Detective Bullock right outside." she says, pointing to a man with grown out hair covered by a hat and a graying beard.

"Okay, thank you ma'am." Frances says, forgetting proper etiquette and leaving before being dismissed.

Captain Essen watches her leave "Those two will make one weird pair." she mutters to herself, glancing over Frances Finch's file once more.


	2. The Remarkable Riddler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How goes it guys? Thank you for the people who took the time to read the first chapter and thank you thank you for the people who have commented and left kudos. This chapter begins right after the first chapter so basically it picks up right where it left off. I hope you guys enjoy the update and if you have any thoughts or suggestions I'd love to read them in the comments. Thank you once more!

Frances Finch stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and sighs. She's always been considered pretty by family and peers. Standing at five foot seven with a slim build, she has short white blonde hair. Her somewhat pixie cut ends at the highest point of her neck and features thick swooshed bangs that fall, in itself, into wavy flips that she can't decide are either stylish or messy. Covering about a fourth of her face are large horn rimmed glasses magnifying her already large soft washed out green eyes, their color like a favorite sweater that's been washed too many times. Across her torso, a white tucked in blouse is buttoned to the top, a rather delicate looking bow tied in the center, right where her collar bones would be. Below the blouse, and reaching down to her knee, is a pleated black skirt, colored to match the bow. Buckled to her feet are a pair of velvety black colored high heels.

Giving one last sigh, she gathers her documents into her arms and leaves the bathroom with an air of confidence and intelligence. Or at least she hopes she does.

Turning the corner of the busy and loud main room, Frances finds herself faced with about a dozen different doors and three separate and winding hallways.

"How the hell does anyone get around in a place like this?" she mutters to herself as she takes a couple of anxious steps forward.

"It gets easier once you've been around for a little while."

Startled, Frances turns to face a man with short well kept brown hair and a rather comical looking nose.

The man steps forward with an outstretched hand and a smile "Hi, I'm Detective Jim Gordon."

She returns his gesture with a sturdy handshake "Frances Finch."

When he draws back, he folds his hands in front of himself "You're the new pathologist, right?"

"Forensic pathologist." Frances immediately corrects.

He nods his head with a slightly confused look in his eyes.

"Well Detective, it's just," Frances begins quickly "pathologist would insinuate I'm a physician who examines human tissue and significantly assists in the casual study of diseases while forensic pathology is a sub-specialty of pathology that pinpoints the cause of death of a victim of some kind of accident whether it be accidental or purposeful." her voice dies down a bit as she realizes she's rambling "It's just they're, um, different."

Once more Jim nods "Well, okay, um I've got to get back to my work so if you're wanting to know where your office is it's down the middle hall through the last door on the right." he says before turning around and striding away.

Frances smacks her forehead muttering "Great way to make friends." before heading off down the hallway.

\----------

Upon reaching the door, Frances furrows her brows.

"Detective Bullock?" she asks, stopping a foot or two in front of him.

Harvey rubs his eyes with a sigh "Nygma won't give me the case report until I answer his riddle."

As if on cue, Edward Nygma pulls the door open slightly and pokes his head out saying "It's not even that difficult of a riddle." before shutting it again.

The detective smacks the wood "Just give me the damn report Ed!"

"You know my terms!" an amused voice replies, slightly muffled by the thick door.

"Well what's the riddle?" Frances ask, clutching the papers to her chest tighter, a feeling of excitement filling her at the thought of a challenge.

Edward pokes his head out once more "A dragons tooth in a mortals hand. I kill, I main, I divide the land. What am I?"

He leaves his head sticking out as he awaits an answer.

Frances repeats the riddle to herself quietly "I kill, I main, I divide the land...Mmmm...Oh! A sword!" she practically yells, her voice echoing down the metallic hallway.

Edward's smug look falls "Correct." he says unenthusiastically before turning and grabbing a small stack of paper, letting the door slowly fall open at the same time.

"Why thank you Ed." Harvey comments sarcastically, snatching the papers with a gruff and annoyed grunt.

Edward and Frances watch the Detective swagger his way back to the main room not even turning to say goodbye but instead offering a lazy wave.

"Congratulations." Frances hears Edward say behind her.

She turns "For what, answering your riddle?"

He nods "Yes but more importantly for not being an ignoramus."

With the comment he turns and walks into his office.

"Ignoramus?"

"As in blockhead, dunce, idiot-"

"I know what ignoramus means." Frances cuts him off, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

Edward stops shuffling the papers he'd previously been so keen on and turns to face Frances.

"Hello." he says, straightening his back and walking up to her, jutting out his slim hand "My name is Edward Nygma. People call me Ed."

Frances shakes his hand, a little less confident then when she had shaken hands with Detective Jim Gordon, something about Ed is...intimidating. Maybe it's because of his eyes. Their piercing gaze, the way they tingle and shiver and shine with excitement. How they are copper against honey, how Frances can imagine when they water they glow like two perfect orbs the same shade as nature after it rains. How they're warm and sweet like milk chocolate, like hot chocolate on a cold fall night at a football game, the soft warmness of them wrapping around you like a blanket and reminding you of home. Or maybe it was the fact that they radiated with intelligence and sparked with hunger at the thought of a new challenge.

"I'm, um..." Frances finds her tongue to be ten times too big for her mouth as they continue to shake hands for what seems like too many moments too long "I'm Frances Finch." she manages.

Ed pulls away with a small tight smile "Frances Finch." he echoes to himself "And is there anything else people call you Miss Finch?" he asks, returning to the papers but maintaining eye contact.

She shakes her head.

"Hmm..." he mumbles, most likely to himself, tearing his gaze from hers and focusing on the papers in front of him.

Frances feels a sort of relief or releasement if you will. Quickly catching her breath, she clicks her way over to the empty desk in the opposite corner of the room.

Just as she takes a seat, a man unknown to her barges in "Nygma and..." he looks at Frances questioningly.

"Miss Finch." Edward replies for her, not even glancing in her direction.

"Yeah, Finch. There's been another murder, weird one too." he says, regaining his urgent tempo.

Edward stands and throws on a jacket "Your first case with the GCPD." he says with a grin "How exciting!"

\----------

"If it isn't Frances Finch!" Detective Harvey Bullock's loud voice fills Frances', and probably everyone's, ears "The remarkable riddler!"

Frances glances around uncomfortably before pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose "Um..."

Edward clears his throat "If it's alright with you, _Detective_ , we'd like to go and inspect the body now." gently hovering his fingertips over Frances' elbow, he steers her away from Harvey and towards the body.

"Since this will be your first time," Ed begins "I'll let you examine first."

Getting a clear look at the body, Frances feels a scintillation of excitement in her gut. Sitting in a ratty plum colored chair, her head thrown back, blonde curls cascading across the fabric like a golden waterfall, pale gray eyes thrown open, dark brown eye lashes sticking out like feathers on wing, is a teenage girl. Vertically down her throat, a precise incision has been cut and something quite vital has been stolen. Her larynx.

"Quite fascinating." Edward remarks.

He doesn't receive an answer. Frances is too caught up in the murder scene to pay attention.

"First the fingers and now this?" a voice mumbles "You got anything, Frances?" a familiar voice says behind her.

Frances turns and is startled to see Jim "Oh, Detective." she says letting out a breath "Sorry, you scared me or frightened I suppose if you want to be more precise..." Frances reads the look on Jim's face and decides to get to the point "Anyway, the girl is approximately eighteen, possibly nineteen." she begins, stepping around to stand behind the chair "She died in this chair about fourteen hours ago from oxygen loss. Theoretically, the killer may have stepped behind her as I am and might have been a bit too friendly with her to get her comfortable with the close range." she says, taking a gloved hand and cradling the dead girl's head, softly caressing her cheek "Then maybe with the other hand, the killer carefully sneaked a knife from his of her bag or pocket." she demonstrates, holding the air as if she were holding a handle "From this point he or she tightened their grip on the girl's head." With this she jerks the body's head up, causing the detectives to slightly jump, revealing the neck and allowing a bit of fresher blood to flow "Then he or she took the knife and carefully sliced upwards and took the larynx. She then proceeded to drown in her own blood." At this she drops the girl's head and lets the body fall limp "Whoever killed her must have been skilled with a knife. Perhaps a surgeon?" she looks up at the three men and sees them staring at her.

Detective Bullock closes his slightly ajar mouth in disgust and licks his lips before speaking "Well that was friggin' creepy. How could you tell any of that stuff?"

"Well, Detective," Frances begins trying to ignore how repulsed he looked "I think the age assumption is quite evident. I can tell her time of death from her internal temperature." she points to a grinning Edward who's holding the thermometer "Please keep in mind that most of my assumptions are made based on logic and theories but I believe the only way the murderer could have kept the crime scene so clean, i.e the blood is only on her throat and chest, he or she must have been in close range and the victim must have been comfortable with that because there are no signs of struggle. I can tell for certain, though, that the murderer was a bit grabby and threw her head up like this because I can see bruise marks from their fingers. The rest is pretty self explanatory."

As Frances moves away from the body, Edward dives in and goes to inspect the victim's throat.

"You're pretty observant." Jim says though Frances can note the hint of repugnance in his eyes.

"Thanks." she mutters, setting her eyes downcast whilst wondering what she could have done wrong.

"Detectives!" Edward's voice breaks the awkward tension in the air "Guess what."

"Nygma..." Detective Bullock starts threateningly.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you." Ed says, throwing his hands up defensively "Your killer was most likely a man but perhaps a large handed women. Also, whoever they are most likely works with a lumber jacking company as the glove indentations on her chin paint a clear image of a glove that is indigenous with the tree cutting business. But, as Miss Frances stated, they probably had some kind of medical background for the cut on the neck is too clean for it to be done by an amateur."

"Alright, thanks guys, keep us caught up on any leads you guys might get." Detective Jim Gordon states before walking off with his partner.

"Will do Detective!" Ed's eager voice trails behind the duo as they leave the crime scene.


	3. Riddles and Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How goes it, guys? I'd just like to thank everyone who has been leaving me kudos and comments, I appreciate them beyond measure. I would also like to take a moment and apologize if this chapter is not as long as you would all like, I have been trying to catch up on school work since I was sick last week. I hope you all still enjoy this chapter despite its briefness and please feel free to leave comments with any suggestions or remarks.

Frances tightens her grip on her long black coat as she pulls the hood up to deflect the falling snow. Her frosty breath hangs in the air like a slow moving cloud as she journeys her way down the fluffy pavement.

As she walks she can hear people muttering "It's almost March, should it still be snowing?" and "Only in Gotham." in bitter tones. 

Pushing through the GCPD doors, she feels a rush of warm air; it's pleasant but a bit abrupt.

"Finch!" Detective Bullock saunters down the stairs, a cup of coffee in hand "Any new leads?"

Frances shrugs "I suppose but I need to run them by Edward first."

Harvey snorts "You'd be better off without that kook in my opinion." he states before walking off curtly.

Frances' taken aback gaze follows the Detective until he turns a corner and is thoroughly out of sight. Shaking her head, she turns and sees Edward Nygma standing on the second level, papers in hand and hair slicked as usual, except his expression reads like a little kid who's been punched in the gut; confused and assiduously unhappy. He opens his mouth as if to say something then shuts it once more before turning and heading toward their office.

A pang of guilt settles into Frances throat as she cautiously follows after Ed, afraid to see what he's like when he's angry.  _It's not like I did anything bad though. He really has no reason to be mad at me._ She thinks to herself as she rounds the corner into her office.

"Good morning, Ed." she says, trying to sound charismatic but probably sounding more forced cheery instead.

"Miss Finch." he nods his head in acknowledgment but fails to lift his gaze to meet hers.

Internally sighing, Frances takes a seat at her desk and begins to review her notes. The reviewing remains futile as the pang of guilt begins to proliferate and seep down into her chest.

"Do you want to compare notes?" she asks, her voice suddenly seeming too loud for the unwieldy silence.

"I have not completed mine." he replies almost instantly "A bit more time would be appreciated."

She mumbles something incoherent like "Okay." but no one can be really sure.

\----------

As lunch approaches, Frances concocts a plan.

Slinging her coat on, she walks by Edwards desk, stopping momentarily to place a slip of paper in front of him. Everything set in motion, she hurries out of the office and into the main department.

Edward pushes his slipping glasses back up onto his nose as he curiously stares at the note. Picking it up, he opens it with his slim fingers. Inside it reads:

_What costs nothing,_

_But is worth everything,_

_Weighs nothing, but can last a lifetime,_

_That one person can't own,_

_But two or more can share?_

A grin spreads on Edwards face as he drops the note, grabs his jacket, and darts out the door.

\----------

"Frances!" he calls once he reaches the main lobby and catches sight of her.

Frances and Edward duly note this being the first instance in which he refers to her by her first name.

Frances smiles a toothy grin "Yes?"

"I know the answer!" he says hurriedly, throwing his coat on while simultaneously rushing towards her.

"Alright, lets hear it." she says, unable to stop smiling despite the curious looks currently being cast in their direction.

He catches his breath and lets a small smile spread across his lips "Friendship."

"Congratulations." she says, mimicking him from yesterday "Now lets go get lunch." she adds, interlocking their arms and leading him out of the precinct.

\----------

Edward Nygma thoughtfully stares down into his foaming cup of coffee. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

"What's up Ed?" Frances asks, sipping at her own slightly less foaming coffee.

"What about Frankie?" he suddenly asks.

"Pardon?"

"You said you had no nickname." he pauses momentarily "What about Frankie?"

Frances bursts out laughing "Yeah, okay, Frankie seems logical."

Ed smiles "Great." he takes a sip of coffee before continuing "So, about the case-"

"Ah." Frankie interrupts, cutting him off "This is our lunch break, let's not talk about work."

"Oh, alright." he says, looking as though he's scanning his brain for a conversational topic.

"What do you like to do in your free time?" Frances asks, noticing his difficulties.

"Well," he begins, a certain type of excitement filling him "I do enjoy puzzles quite a lot. Oh! And video games. They are simply quite titillating."

"What games?" she immediately asks, her accumulation of Nintendo cartridges and CDs quickly filling her mind.

"Hmm well Portal, XCOM, Legend of Zelda-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa let me stop you there. Which Zelda game?" she asks, her heart pumping as the inner fan begins to blossom.

"A few actually." he states, unaware of her excitement "The original of course, Majora's Mask, and Twilight Princess."

 "Wow." she says, lifting her eye brows "Guess you're really into the dark additions of the series."

Ed shrugs "I suppose, I just find their stories so much more...exhilarating." he says, grinning.

"You should come over and play some time." Frances says before she can stop herself.

He seems to almost flinch "You want _me_ to come over to your house?" he asks incredulously.

Frankie nods "Yeah, do you not want to?"

"No." he says immediately "I mean yes or wait no." his tongue seems hopelessly and utterly tied "I mean I yes, I do want to come over."

Edwards face and ear tips flush a light salmon pink as he laughs at his garbled speech.

Just then, as they laugh harmoniously, the world falls away, drained of all color but Frances and Edward, sitting in the muted sunlight.


End file.
